The Marriage Certificate (17 page)

The express carried 38
passengers. Additionally, there were on the train, a driver, a fireman, a
guard, a ticket collector, and a waiter. Of the passengers, 10 were killed or
died as a consequence of their injuries and 5 were seriously maimed or hurt. The
engine driver, fireman, and guard were killed. The ticket collector and waiter
were injured. To this long list of fatalities has to be added the guard of the
goods train.

The locomotive was badly
impacted and destroyed. The leading coach, number 1, was severely compressed.
Coach number 2 was damaged by collision and subsequent fire.

Coach number 3 came to rest on
its side with the least damage. Coach number 4, the carriage reserved for first
class passengers, was derailed and struck by the kitchen and brake van.

The majority of the victims were
in the first-class coach, number 4.

The cause of the accident was
excessive speed on the part of the express driver. Contrary to instructions, he
attempted to pass through Dunley Bottom at a speed in excess of the
restriction, set at 30 miles per hour. It is not clear why the driver committed
such a fatal error. However, the Company has admitted that the driver was
unfamiliar with the locomotive that he was operating that day, it being the
first time he had driven it.

From calculations made by the
Company’s Chief Mechanical Engineer, it has been noted that the extra height of
the locomotive, over the examples to which the driver was accustomed, may have
contributed to the accident. The centre of gravity, being higher, caused the
locomotive in question to assume an unstable equilibrium at a lower speed than
the driver may have expected. However, no such problem would have occurred if
the driver had not exceeded the 30 miles per hour restriction. The Company’s
Chief Mechanical Engineer has further calculated that the engine would have had
to exceed 47 miles per hour to cause an unstable equilibrium, and it seems from
all of the evidence that this was the case.

I cannot conclude my report
without an expression of deep regret for the loss of so many valuable lives in
this disaster, and of sincere sympathy with the relatives and friends of those
who were killed and with the injured.

Col. W. P. Fothergill.

The Assistant Secretary.

Railway Department, Board of Trade.

Dunley Bottom, being situated seven
miles north of Winchester, fell within the jurisdiction of the Winchester
Coroner, James Driffield, whose job it was, under English law, to investigate
deaths, particularly those occurring in unusual circumstances, and to decide
whether a post-mortem should take place and whether to hold an inquest.

In relation to the train crash, he ordered both post-mortems
and inquests. He worked in conjunction with the police and railway officials.
His immediate task was to instruct the police to confirm the identity of each
of the victims. Here, he came across a problem: two of the victims, located in
the second coach, were terribly burned and facial recognition was impossible.

A temporary mortuary was established in one of the nearby
outbuildings belonging to the chalk quarry. The bodies were removed, one by
one, from the scene of the accident; each one labelled, to show from which
coach it had been recovered.

By luck, the express train was lightly loaded with
passengers on the day of the accident. There were only three passengers in the
first coach, two of whom survived. The unfortunate victim was crushed to death
on impact. He was identified by his daughter, who survived and received only
minor injuries.

There were two passengers in the second coach. Both died
from burns and the inhalation of noxious gases.

All of the twenty-five passengers in the third coach survived,
although five were seriously hurt.

In the fourth coach – the first-class carriage – the waiter
and one American passenger escaped with minor injuries. The other seven
passengers, all American citizens, lost their lives. The surviving passenger in
the first-class carriage was able to identify his compatriots.

Where there was any doubt as to the cause of death, post-mortems
were carried out. One of the Americans, James Silverman, survived the initial
impact, but died two hours later. His post-mortem revealed that he had suffered
a fatal heart attack, brought on, it was believed, when he was informed that
his wife had perished.

The railway employees were formally identified by work
colleagues. The two burned and disfigured bodies from the second coach defied
initial identification. One was female and one was male. The fire had consumed
any luggage that they may have had with them. The female’s face and upper torso
were particularly affected by the heat of the fire. From her remains and
charred clothing, the police were able to determine that she was aged twenty to
thirty-five, had black hair, was unmarried (no rings) and was travelling alone
(her body was found at the other end of the carriage to the that of the
gentleman).

The male victim, was older and a particularly tall
individual. Close to his body, the rescuers found an inscribed silver watch
presented to a Henry Dodd. His corpse was missing the small toe from his left
foot. It was an old injury and the police were soon able to trace a relative,
who formally identified the body as being that of Henry Dodd.

The day after the train crash, the
story dominated the newspapers. John and Louisa knew nothing of it, until John
opened his newspaper that Saturday morning. He realised instantly that it was
Rose’s train. He passed the paper to Louisa, who read the headline and paled.
It was dreadful news, on top of the misery they were suffering from the loss of
their son. Surely, Rose had not perished in such an awful accident. John
comforted Louisa. They held each other, and hoped with all their hearts that
she would be among the survivors.

The following twenty-four hours were a further ordeal for
John and Louisa. The next edition of the newspaper gave the names of the dead
and those of the injured, as well as those who had escaped the crash without
injury. Rose’s name was not listed. However, there was mention of one female
victim, who had yet to be identified and this piece of news caused a shudder to
pass between them.

John decided that he would contact the police without delay,
to inform them of his suspicion that the unidentified female may be Rose. He
went to the local police station, where a sergeant patiently took down the
details.

The sergeant tried to calm John’s fears, but was willing to
admit that her death in the accident was a possibility. He noted the address of
George and Charlotte in Ventnor and sent a telegram to the Ventnor police,
requesting that they enquire as to Rose’s whereabouts. He advised John to
return home and await developments.

Later that afternoon, a police constable called at Apsley
Street. John led him to the rear parlour where Louisa was ironing. He informed
them that Rose had not arrived in Ventnor as expected. Louisa almost collapsed
with grief. John supported her and helped her to a chair.

‘Now sir, madam,’ said the constable nodding to Louisa. ‘We
have no proof at this stage that Miss Ince was a passenger on the ill-fated
express. Could you give me some more information and we’ll make further
enquiries.’

John then explained the timings of Rose’s journey, of how
she had left at about eight-thirty in the morning two days before, with the
intention of catching the eleven o’clock express from Waterloo to Southampton.

‘Do you have a recent photograph of Miss Ince, and can you
remember what she was wearing when she left here? Was she carrying a bag or
something?’

Louisa soon found a photograph. It was one given to her by
Rose and was from the same set of portrait photographs, which Rose had
commissioned for Frank.

‘Ah yes, this should do well,’ confirmed the constable. He
turned it over and on the reverse noticed the name of
Douglas’ Portrait Studio
,
High Street
,
Leyton
.

‘When was this taken?’

‘About two years ago,’ replied John.

‘Excellent,’ said the constable. ‘With luck, Mr Douglas
still has the means to make a copy. If so, we can obtain some more photographs
and perhaps enlarge them as well.’

Louisa recalled Rose’s clothing as best she could. She
remembered that she was carrying a carpetbag and a small handbag, both of which
she described.

The constable noted everything down before leaving, advising
them not to give up hope until the police had finished their enquiries.

The police soon established that Rose had purchased a ticket
to Liverpool Street at Leyton station two days before. The booking-office clerk
confirmed her likeness to the photograph and added that she had appeared to
have a ‘contretemps’ with the draper’s porter, who worked for Crockford’s in
the town.

They followed up his observation by calling at the shop to
interview Sidney. He was asked if he had seen Miss Rosetta Ince at Leyton
station, two days before.

‘Yes, I saw ’er at the station. I ’ad a bit of a go at her
actually,’ he added sheepishly.

‘Oh, why was that?’

‘Well, she wasn’t who we thought she was, that’s all. Got
’erself in the family way, you see … not married like.’

‘Did she work here then? Is that how you know her?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Worked ’ere for about two years. She was
very good at ’er job, a very skilled seamstress and draper.’

‘And what exactly happened at the station?’ asked the
policeman.

‘Well I spotted ’er buying a ticket and when she turned away
from the booth I ’ad a go at ’er, told ’er what I thought of ’er.’

‘And what was her reaction when you … ’ad a go at ’er?’

‘She didn’t like it … slapped my cheek and ran off to get
’er train.’

‘Did you see her get on a train?’

‘Yes.’

‘And which train was it? Where was it going?’

‘It was the train to Liverpool Street.’

‘And what was the time?’

Sidney thought for a moment. ‘It was nine o’clock. Yes, she
caught the nine o’clock to Liverpool Street.’

‘Very well, that’s all for now,’ said the policeman, closing
his notebook.

The police continued with their
enquiries. They further established that Rose had purchased a ticket for the
underground at City station.

The ticket clerk recalled seeing her, because he noticed
that she looked as though she had been crying and he had enquired if she was in
distress. He explained that she had shaken her head and had hurried away in the
direction of the electric underground train. There was no other destination
from this station, as the line operated solely between City and Waterloo.

At Waterloo, the clerk could not recall seeing her, but one
of the porters confirmed that he had seen her coming out of the waiting room,
just prior to the departure of the express.

A lady contacted the police to say that on the morning of
the crash, she had sat opposite a young woman in her twenties, matching the
description given in the newspapers of the unidentified female victim. The lady
had taken the electric train from City underground to Waterloo and thought her
encounter may have been significant. She described how she had noticed a
distressed young woman sitting directly opposite her in the carriage and had
tried to engage her in conversation, but had only established that she was
going to Ventnor, before the young woman had moved to another seat.

The police, at the accident scene, had deduced that the
unidentified female victim was black haired, unmarried, aged twenty to
thirty-five and travelling alone. Rosetta Ince’s description matched the victim
in age, height, and build. They could find no evidence of any labels on her
badly charred clothes, which indicated that they were probably home-made,
rather than purchased from a retailer. That observation fitted with Rosetta
Ince’s occupation as a seamstress-cum-draper. The remains of her footwear matched
the colour and style described by Louisa Williams. Furthermore, Rose had left
Leyton on the morning of the crash and had not arrived at her destination in
Ventnor.

All this evidence was put before the coroner, James
Driffield, and he was satisfied that the body of the female found in the second
coach was that of Rosetta Ince, and he issued a death certificate accordingly.
The body was released to the undertakers on the nineteenth day after the crash.

Louisa and John found themselves at
a second funeral in four weeks. This time however, it took place in Ventnor. It
was a very sad and solemn occasion. The local parish church was virtually
empty. Florence and Arthur were present and so too were George and Charlotte,
but that was all.

Florence complained bitterly that the family had seen enough
misery and sadness. ‘That’s three deaths now,’ she said. ‘Let that be an end to
it. We deserve some happiness; we’ve had our share of sorrow for the time
being. I’ve had just about enough of being in mourning. I want to be able to
pack these clothes away for a good long spell.’

Mrs Edwards had remained at Brindle Lodge to look after the
twins. After the short but moving service, followed by burial in the little
churchyard, the family returned to Brindle Lodge for a cup of tea, and to
recover from the ordeal of the funeral. Charlotte and Louisa were desperate to
see the children. They were a tonic to counteract the sadness that they were
both feeling.

When Mrs Edwards had served tea and left the room, the
family settled down to consider the future of Edith and Harold. The subject had
already been aired by John and George the previous evening. A possible solution
had been proposed and discussed exhaustively. Their wives were in favour, but
they wanted to put it before Arthur and Florence, in order to gauge their
feelings too.

George explained the proposal to Arthur and Florence, and
all waited for their reaction.

It was Arthur who spoke: ‘What you’re saying is, that you
want to separate the twins … have Edith remain here in Ventnor with you and
Charlotte, and let Harold go with John and Louisa to live in Leyton?’

‘Yes, that’s about the long and the short of it,’ confirmed
John. ‘What do you think?’

There was silence before Arthur spoke again: ‘Florence and I
have been wondering what might happen. Actually we came up with the same idea,
but weren’t sure how Charlotte would react to splitting the twins. We know how
fond you have become of them, dear.’

Yes, I have,’ said Charlotte, her eyes starting to well with
tears once more, ‘but the children are still young, too young to suffer lasting
damage and we know Harold will be well looked after. I will miss him terribly
and it will be hard, but I can’t have children and poor Louisa has been told
that she may not be able to have another. Why should George and I keep both
children? It seems the best solution all round, and I am sure the children will
not suffer as a consequence.’

‘We are too old to take on these youngsters,’ Florence
began, ‘and it will be a wrench not seeing Harold very often, but when
everything is taken into account, we think this is a good idea, don’t we
Arthur?’

‘Yes dear, we do. Frank’s not here,’ he continued, ‘and we
have to think what he would have wanted. We know he loved his brother and
cousin dearly. In Frank’s absence, we feel responsible for deciding the
children’s future. Edith and Harold are our flesh and blood and it seems only
right that if we can’t bring them up, then either our son or our nephew should
do so. You know we have great affection for both of you and you are already
their godparents. So, yes, if all of you are happy that the children can be
separated with no lasting ill-effects, then you have our blessing to the
arrangement.’

Two days later, John and Louisa returned to Leyton with
young Harold in their charge. Louisa and Charlotte had spent the day after
Rose’s funeral packing his things, mainly clothes and a few easy-to-carry toys.
Charlotte was quite tearful at times and it was obvious that letting go of
Harold was painful for her, but she also recognised the needs of Louisa and
John, who were devastated over the loss of Henry.

As the Williams family left Brindle Lodge, the emotion was
almost too much for Charlotte and Louisa. George had taken the day off work to
be there. The ladies were both in tears, but after the parting, each of them
felt some relief. The dread of the moment of leaving had, for each of them,
been building and after it was over, it was as if a new chapter was opening and
it was time to move on and to plan for the future.

On the whole, they had all agreed, although difficult to
cope with, it was an admirable arrangement. Charlotte and George had Edith, the
child in the household that they had always wanted. Louisa and John had Harold,
a replacement of sorts to fill the void left by Henry.

As the Williams family made their way back to Leyton that
day, increasing the physical distance between the twins, they wondered whether
Edith and Harold would ever again feel that bond of closeness with each other –
the bond that had been there in the womb and from the moment of birth.